


Steel and Snow

by AceCavalier



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Release Day Celebration Smut, Scars, oh golly oh gosh oh Seiros I did it I wrote Fire Emblem smut what have I done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 21:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19981138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceCavalier/pseuds/AceCavalier
Summary: Byleth followed Dimitri down the path of war, and though she wonders what could have happened had her choice been different, she knows that she would never have chosen anyone else to walk beside, and Dimitri is extremely grateful.





	Steel and Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Is this... my first Fire Emblem smut??? 
> 
> A bit of a celebration for Three Houses being released today and to get out some of this pent-up angst and love for Dimitri. I am 100% ready for him to break my heart. Enjoy!

Another bitterly cold night had crawled its way across Fodlan’s skies. So many had passed now since the war began that Byleth was beginning to lose track – days had blurred to weeks, weeks to months. Time was marked by weary bones, blood-smeared blades, fallen friends, as Dimitri’s army trudged on through the endless grey of winter. Mud, snow, steel, blood; it had all become so mixed together that they were almost indistinguishable. Mud, snow, steel, blood, war, flames, death, cold, madness…

Byleth tried to shake the thoughts away but they refused to shift, clinging as stubbornly as the cold clung to her skin. Fire, blood, screams, death. The faces of foes she had once called friends, crying out in agony as she cut them down… How many was it now? How many would it be before the war was over? Had she made the right choice, when those three students had stood before her all those years ago? When, after five years, she had seen him again, scarred beyond repair, both physically and emotionally, and sworn to stay by his side?

The answer was clear to her immediately. If offered the same choice again, she would agree without hesitation. Byleth had chosen Dimitri not once, but twice, and she would choose him every time again; even if it led her down the same path of war and blood, she would walk that path with Dimitri to the very end. And what was at the end? Not even Sothis could tell her that, and even if the strange girl could, Byleth doubted she’d want the answer.

The war room’s doors opened and Byleth turned to see Dimitri enter. For a moment he seemed part of the shadows, a hulking dark form that had detached itself from the walls and begun to stalk about the fortress, the cloak only serving to make the image more real to her, then he stepped out into the moonlight and colour returned to him, reanimated him, and he was a living man once more. Byleth’s stammering heart resumed its usual pattern, and she allowed herself a smile.

“I was wondering where you’d gotten to.”

Dimitri gave a start at her voice, his broad shoulders twitching. He looked up, an instinctive fear and anger on his face that melted the instant he saw her. His whole frame visibly relaxed.

“Byleth… you startled me.” He shut his eye and allowed a long breath to escape him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she offered gently, crossing the room to him. “Are you feeling alright?”

His grimace was answer enough, but he gave her words nonetheless. “No. Our rations are low, and so’s morale. Felix hasn’t stopped snapping at me and Dedue won’t leave me be. If we don’t get through the mountains before…” He caught himself and stopped. “Sorry.”

The grimace remained on his face, drawing his lips into a thin line and tugging his brows together in a picture of distress. His good eye looked away from her, embarrassed, and to a space beyond them. As imposing as he might seem and as ruthless as he was on the battlefield, Byleth preferred him in these moments when he was softer, kinder – less of a leader and more… _him_. The sight pulled at something in her chest, drawing her into him, and she simply couldn’t help but raise her hands to his face. He twitched under touch, surprised again, only to melt into a moment later. His eye fell shut and the tense lines vanished, swept away by her fingers.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” she asked him, gently chiding. “You’re not the only one fighting this war, Dimitri. You have your friends to help you – even if it doesn’t always feel like they’re helping – and you have me, remember? Do you remember what I promised you?”

In place of an answer, he placed a hand over one of hers, carefully pried it from his cheek, and placed his cool lips against her palm.

“I remember.” Barely above a whisper.

“I will stand by your side no matter what. Whatever the future may hold, I will never leave you. You will never be alone again.”

His face twisted at the last words, a momentary flash of agony disturbing the brief calm, and Byleth felt it like a dagger to her heart. _I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. All those years… how different could they have been if I was there for you?_ She was too afraid to speak them aloud, and she didn’t need to. This was one piece of her past that couldn’t be rewritten, no matter how desperately she had tried. _I’m so sorry…_

Then the pain was gone again. His eye opened and the light in it was soft. He pressed her palm to his lips again. “And neither will you, Byleth. I would walk with you to the end of the world, and cherish every step.”

That was all it took. Byleth was in his arms – those strong arms, worn and scarred from countless battles – held against the cold steel of his armour, his hands – calloused, cold, crimson – clutching her to him. Their lips, chapped from the winter air, found each other, and Byleth felt a new warmth spread outwards from the contact, trickling down across her skin and into her core. Dimitri must have felt it, too; when they parted, he took her hand and they hurried to Dimitri’s chambers, grateful that the late hour meant the rest of the army were likely already sleeping. With the door shut safely behind them, they fumbled over clasps and straps to alleviate themselves of their armour.

Being less-heavily armoured, Byleth had turned her attention to helping Dimitri when she paused.

“Wait,” she told him, “you should… you should keep the cloak on.”

Dimitri, the cloak already half-way off his shoulders as he struggled to remove his breastplate, frowned at her.

“Why?”

“For uh… the warmth?”

Unconvinced, but ever-willing to humour her, he simply shook his head and unclipped the cloak from the rest of his armour, making a show of throwing it back over his shoulders once he was finally free of it, entirely naked aside from it.

“You’re right,” he said, frowning again. “It’s quite cold.”

“I believe I know a way to fix that.”

Byleth guided him across to the bed and gestured for him to lie down; he complied obediently, spreading the cloak out underneath him as he lay on his back, propped up on his arms and watching her attentively as she removed the last of her clothing. Flushed from the cold, Dimitri’s usually pale skin was a patchwork of colour; pinks and reds from his many scars burned against the pallor, marking every lost duel, every miscalculation, every wrong step. Her eyes didn’t leave them, lingering in particular on the large, x-shaped scar on his chest, as she moved to kneel by him on the bed. Dimitri wriggled under her gaze.

“They’re, uh… not very pretty, are they?” he mumbled.

The question finally pried Byleth’s gaze back to his, and she smiled. It was intended to be reassuring, but a heat was stirring in her now, and she had a feeling it came across as rather devilish. She leaned forward, feeling him jump as her hands rested on his chest, and kissed him again, a slow, languishing kiss that had Dimitri sinking into the bed beneath him, his tight muscles giving way to the warmth of pleasure. Satisfied that he was relaxed, Byleth moved down to his jaw, along his neck, to hover over a scar by his collarbone, biting her lip. She ran her thumb over it and felt Dimitri draw in a sharp breath.

“I like them,” Byleth said quietly, before leaning down to gently brush her lips against the marked skin. Dimitri’s breath hitched again but it didn’t deter her; she moved from scar to scar, caressing each with either feather-light fingers or lips, tracing each bruise like the lines of a map, dancing across his chest, his torso, his arms, his thighs, and all the while Dimitri unravelled, losing himself a little more with every touch, sighing and moaning and melting away. To Byleth, there was nothing in the world more wonderful than the bliss on his face.

Undressed as she was and exposed to the air, however, the chill was threatening to dull the flame settled in her abdomen, and she soon returned to his handsome face, now a picture of adoration.

“My turn,” she whispered to him, and as always, he has happy to oblige.

They shuffled so that he was kneeling over her, the cloak engulfing their bodies, sheltering them from the frost’s harsh bite. Resting his weight on one arm, Dimitri slipped two of the fingers of his other hand into his mouth, trying to warm them at least a little before reaching down between her thighs; she gasped at the sensation, her body arching up towards him, aching for more. Just this simple teasing was already enough to set her heart racing, her thighs trembling from something far more enjoyable than the cold. Her hands reached up around his neck, drawing him down to her so that their lips crashed together in a messy, fervent kiss. Finally, he drew his fingers away, hesitated just a moment, and then pressed himself into her.

They groaned together, momentarily overwhelmed, then Byleth, the first to regain her senses, rocked her hips against him, and he responded with easy, controlled thrusts that quickly stumbled into a faster, more desperate rhythm. He pressed his face down into her neck and chest, grunting and moaning between small kisses and bites at her skin; Byleth threw her head back, letting herself bask in the attention, gripping at his hair and winding her legs around him, rolling against him with new desperation. Soon his thrusting lost any sense of rhythm and, burying his face into her neck and giving a drawn-out, almost anguished cry of pleasure, he was pulled to his climax, and as she felt the yearning heat in her finally satisfied, Byleth reached hers soon after, curling against him and barely managing to stifle a shout against the thick fur of his cloak.

For a long moment neither of them could find the desire to move, struggling to catch their breath and still the sensations still reeling through their bodies, until the pressing weight of Dimitri on top of her became too uncomfortable, and she shifted underneath him. Catching her meaning, he carefully rolled away from her, making sure to keep the both of them covered by his massive cloak. Unwilling to let him go too far, she turned to curl against his still-panting chest, wrapping an arm around his waist and letting their legs tangle together, the cloak a cacoon of warmth and safety around them.

“Warmer now?” she asked him, looking up at his gloriously handsome face.

He must have still been in the process of settling himself down, as it took him a few seconds to answer; his face was still flushed with the effort – or was he blushing? “Much,” he managed at last. “I love you, Byleth.”

She gave a quiet chuckle. “I love you, too, Dimitri.”

Her eyes shut and she lowered her head to his chest. This close, she could hear his heartbeat gradually steadying to its usual, stoic rhythm, an unwavering drum of duty and honour, like the march of an army. Tomorrow the war would continue, but for now, Byleth would allow herself to savour this moment of closeness.


End file.
